Fluke
by karc
Summary: Deatheater, War Hero, Brightest Witch of her Age. Or as how everybody liked to describe them: single father of one, single father of three, and just plain single.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Rated T for language!

* * *

Draco Malfoy, blonde extraordinaire, glanced at his wife through his eyelashes. Sweat was dripping off his forehead. It seems, magical or not, birthing was still the same as always: extremely painful and incredibly unpleasant. She screamed once more as she pushed what would become his son, her hand gripped his like death.

Draco tried to comfort her by rubbing circles on her hand with his thumb but this earned him a glare. So he stopped but not without thinning his lips in displeasure.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, your wife doing absolutely amazing. She's really something, isn't she?," The healer's assistant smiled encouragingly at him.

"She's something alright," the Malfoy muttered as he tried to focus his attention on the birth of his son. But until his heir was born, nothing was going to distract him from the fact that the bleak reality of his life is that he, Draco Malfoy, was married to Astoria Greengrass.

Just as well.

Nothing ever did go right with his life.

He had always wondered how his life would have turned out if Potter had returned his gesture for a handshake. Draco shook his head, but that was a different story. Today, his misfortune was caused by magical little thing he liked to call:

A **Marriage Contract,** drawn up by by his idiotic father and his idiotic father-in-law.

Purebloods don't believe in marriage for love. They believe in signing off their children and selling them to the highest bidder—because that's what marriages were all about: power and personal gain. Parents using their children like pawns in their game for more wealth, influence and stronger bloodlines. And these children, they march on, carrying the torch for their families with nothing but the tiny hope that their new queens or kings don't turn out to be monsters. Love, if it ever happened, was just extra benefit in the contract.

But Draco did believe in that foolish idea—a secret he had buried as soon as he was smart enough to. Because why spend the rest of your life with somebody you hated. What was the point? Maybe that's why life had gone so horribly wrong for him. Maybe he was being punished for being a less than perfect pureblood—a defective pureblood. Because when Astoria bore the Malfoy ring on her pretty little finger Draco had done everything to keep her. He spoiled her rotten. Because he loved her—or more like, he craved to love her because for once in his miserable life he wasn't so…miserable.

But Astoria had other priorities.

Astoria loved a lot of things. Fine dining, custom-made gowns, jewellery that shone so bright the stars would twinkle in jealousy. In fact, there was only one thing that she loved more than all of these and that was social popularity. She loved the attention. She loved the praise. She loved how everyone would bend over backwards just to obey her every whim. And because she loved these things so much she simply had no room to love Draco Malfoy nor did she had room to love her sudden social lifestyle change.

And this led to an argument.

To conflict.

TO angry flames that burned their marriage.

Insults were thrown.

Firewhiskey bottles were thrown.

Maybe a chair was thrown.

But no matter how long they argued it all boiled down to this one point:

"You're a Deatheater!" she had cried, "Do you know what that does to my reputation?"

He would always feel his heart plunge at the accusation. It was the truth and like most truths, it hurt. A lot. Of course Draco had always known that by marrying him she would cease to exist as Astoria Greengrass and be reborn into, "the Deatheater's wife." But he hoped that by taking care of her and catering to her needs he would somehow ease her painful transition into his hate-filled life.

He of course tried redeeming himself to the eyes of the public, if not for his, then for his family's sake. However, this was going slower than anticipated and so naturally Astoria received some of the backlash. People still sneered, insulted and shouted death threats at him but at least no one cursed him anymore—or tried to. At least all Astoria had to deal with were glares and idle gossip.

" **Ex-** deatheater," Draco hissed in his defence, "I've given you everything! What more do you want?"

"What I want? What I **want**?" Astoria sneered, "I want my life back. I'd like not to be insulted every time I go outside, be shunned out of establishments or be refused service."

"Well maybe those things wouldn't happen if you weren't such a goddamn bitch all the time!"

At this point a chair was definitely thrown.

Tears fell.

Accompanied with pain.

Unimaginable heart break. At least on Draco's part.

Then finally, a decision.

The most beautiful sound snapped Draco out of his dark thoughts—the wonderful sound of frantic crying. It sounded so precious, so pure and Draco could not keep his eyes off the little thing. He immediately dropped Astoria's hand and stood up in awe. He was perfect. His son was perfect.

"Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy!" the Healer said as he wrapped the newest addition to the Malfoy bloodline in a blue blanket and soon the babe settled down into small whimpers and then nothing, "Would you like to hold him Mrs. Malfoy?"

Astoria looked away and the healer looked uncomfortable.

"Mrs. Malfoy…?" he repeated.

"Give him here," Draco cut in, "I'll take him,"

The healer smiled gratefully at the chance to avoid this awkward situation and as soon as he settled the baby in the father's arms he excused himself from the room.

"Don't you at least want to see him?" Draco growled.

"I'm done," Astoria said as she stared at the ceiling.

Draco frowned at her and held his baby tighter.

A divorce. That's what they had decided on—more like, what she decided on. Their marriage contract was only unbreakable until the first male child was birthed to ensure the bloodline, as stated by the Malfoy patriarch's condition on their union. After that it was up to the party involved if they would continue in said arrangement. Draco hoped that Astoria would have developed some maternal instinct and stay.

"He needs a mother," Draco said with gritted teeth.

"I'm done," Astoria repeated.

Draco gave a slight nod and walked towards the door. He stopped by the doorway and looked back at her. She was still looking away towards the window. He wondered if he should stay and fight for her but decided otherwise. It would never work. Not until Astoria can put this family ahead of her own personal interests. Even if he did make her stay, what then? She would only end up leaving on a later date.

"I'll..." Draco tried to say, "I'll have the house-elves pack up your belongings. The lawyer draw up the divorce papers. The bank send in the settlement pay,"

Astoria slightly nodded.

"What about our son?" The Slytherin prince pressed her further.

"What about him?" She looked at him, emotionless and Draco felt his anger spike at her lack of care for their son.

"Don't you want—"

"No," she bit out angrily, "I don't want anything to do with him. I don't want pictures, I don't want updates. Just...just leave me out of it. Just take him and go"

Defeated, he left the room clutching onto the tiny life he held in his arms, afraid he might hurt him or drop him. Later he would find himself sitting in the rocking chair at the Malfoy Manor nursery as he tried to lull his son to sleep.

"Hello," he would whisper an awkward conversation with his son, "It's me, your, er…father."

The baby would blink up at him innocently and a lump would rise to his throat.

"I'm sorry," He'd continue, "It's not much, but this is family for now. Just you and me."

His son's silver eyes twinkled as the baby smiled and gurgled.

"Scorpius," he'd whisper.

 **XXX**

 **Four years later.**

Harry was a mess. His face flushed with the unmistakable pink that was only caused by ingesting a disgusting amount of butterbeer. He buried his fingers in his still messy, raven black hair and tried to bite back tears that were traitorously forming in his eyes. Traitorous—like his traitor of a wife.

"So she just left?"

"Yeah, this morning," the boy-who-lived croaked. His voice soaked in pain and misery, "I woke up with her trunk gone and a note,"

"I never liked that woman,"

"You never liked any of us," the-boy-who-lived gave his silver-eyed companion a pointed look.

How did he find himself here, the boy-who-lived wondered. One day he was the war hero with the perfect wife and the perfect family and the next thing he knew he was getting piss drunk at some dimly lit pub with Draco Malfoy. They appear to be sharing what seems to be their nth helping of butterbeer.

"What did the note say?" the Malfoy heir inquired.

"Sorry," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Sorry?" Draco snorted.

"Yes. Sorry. Jut the one, lousy word," Harry seethed, "Well you know what? _I'm_ sorry that I ever wasted time on her!"

The Slytherin thinking of his own ex-wife, nodded in agreement, polishing off his Butterbeer and ordering another.

"I mean who does she think she is? I'm the boy-who-lived. I'm the chosen one. I'm—"

"HARRY JAMES POTTER," a witch screeched from the doorway of the pub. Harry and Draco glanced behind them to see a fuming, bushy haired witch by the doorway. The two waited for her to march herself angrily towards them, "I cannot _believe_ you made me come down here to get you. Do you _know_ how hard it is to get a decent date these days? I mean I finally found the one guy who would actually take me out on an actual date. An _actual_ date."

"See this?" the witch continued as she waved a piece of paper in the boy-in-question's face. It looked to be some sort of pamphlet of show schedules, "He was going to take me to see the ballet!"

"I didn't ask you to take care of me," Harry muttered, "How did you find me anyway?"

"Pansy Parkinson," Hermione spat out, "Do you know how humiliating it was to find out about this from Pansy _fucking_ Parkinson?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Draco was being oddly quiet. He might have spaced out, "What were you doing with Pansy?"

"Nothing. I bumped into her in the lines to the ballet," Hermione huffed, "She's always updated on gossip, that one. Word on the street is you're getting drunk out of your mind with an ex-deatheater. And well, here you are,"

"Well," Harry said testily, "You wasted your trip here. I don't need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself,"

"Yes," Hermione drawled, "And you're doing a really good job. Coming out here, getting piss drunk when you have three children at home in need of comfort. You should be there right now when they need you the most! And speaking of the ex-deatheater, what the hell is Malfoy doing here?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and frowned down at his Butterbeer. What _**was**_ he doing here? Oh that's right. He snorted and took a swig of his drink. He was here because somewhere along the four years since he had Scorpius, he and Potter had become friends and now he was doing his mandatory, friend duties—as Potter had claimed it and accompanied the war hero as he drank himself to death.

As for how exactly their friendship came to be, Draco couldn't say. Maybe it was because they were both fathers and petty schoolboy rivalries no longer interested them. Or maybe it was because Draco had somehow become Harry Potter's personal Healer—well, more like Harry's job as an Auror always landed him at St. Mungo's and Draco by some sick coincidence was always assigned to him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because Harry Potter saved his son from a lunatic Deatheater hater two years ago. Yes, you heard that right. Harry _fucking_ Potter saved his son. Of course he did. The irony still hurts Draco to this day.

Plus, it didn't help that Scorpius and the Potter spawn, Albus Severus—merlin bless that boy for his merlin-awful name, were "best friends" as they would describe it.

"Draco is my friend," Harry slurred indignantly.

Hermione raised her eyebrow at the chosen one, "Well, so is Ron?"

"Ron's a Weasley," Harry narrowed his eyes, "And he'll tell Ginny then she'll win,"

"Win what?" she cried incredulously but she was ignored.

"Plus, he saved my son and now I owe him a life debt. And his bloody life debt is friendship," Draco scoffed, "Of course we wouldn't be crossing this bridge just now if he had just shaken my hand back when we were eleven"

Harry snorted, "Get over it, ferret!"

"You said you weren't going to bring that up anymore!" Draco screamed.

"Enough!," Hermione scrunched up her nose suddenly remembering something she read, "Are you two…?"

"NO!" the two protested quelling whatever idea of a Draco-Harry relationship Hermione had going on in her head.

"Because, I won't judge you," Hermione said seriously, "Because I fully support these types of relationships, you know,"

"What the bloody hell," Draco shook his head in disbelief, "Were not. I'm not. I can assure you, Granger. I like _women_." And as if to prove a point he raked his eyes over Hermione's body. He hadn't noticed when she came in but she was wearing a deep purple dress that clung to her body perfectly underneath her coat. He smirked appreciatively at her.

Hermione scowled and tightened her coat shut as she felt his eyes linger at the end of her dangerously low cut neckline, although this did nothing to cover her exposed legs, "Right. No need to be disgusting,"

"Yeah, eyes up here!" Harry tried to scold the former Deatheater.

"No thank you," Draco smirked at Harry, "I'd rather not lose my dinner from looking at your face,"

Hermione glared holes at the two and they quickly resolved this oncoming row before it can even start.

"I just need to escape for now okay? I can't face James and Albus and Lily. What do I even say to them?" the chosen one pleaded to his best friend before turning towards the Slytherin, "I mean, what did you tell Scorpius when Greengrass left?"

"I told Scorpius that she died. It was very tragic," Draco nodded solemnly.

"I thought Greengrass ran off with what's his face to Spain?" Hermione turned to him in confusion. The tabloids were never one to miss out on Malfoy related news. No matter how much people hated that name they can't seem control their curiosity either. One minute they want to stab the blonde heir to the Malfoy fortune and then the next minute they're craving over the details of his latest suit.

"She dead to me," He said deadpanned as his eyes narrowed.

"Hmm…I don't think I can tell my kids that Ginny is dead," Harry said in deep thought as if contemplating to hypothetically kill off his wife.

"Are you seriously considering—Oh my god," Hermione begged exasperatedly to the heavens, "Why am I surrounded by idiots?"

"Would it make better if I told you that she was a bitch?" Draco innocently inquired, turning on his charm and grinning at her.

In a span of two seconds Hermione had rolled up the pamphlet in her hands and whacked Draco behind his head.

"Well she was," Draco muttered while scratching the now stinging spot.

The witch impatiently rolled her eyes and sighed, "Well if you're here, who's watching the kids?"

"Not Ginny that's for sure," Harry snorted as he polished off his drink.

"Real mature, Harry," the witch sighed for the umpteenth time, "Alright. I'm cutting you two off. I'm going over to the counter to pay for your bills and you two idiots better be sober enough to walk your asses home"

The two men groaned.

"That's right I said walk. No apparating and absolutely _no_ flying home,"

"But I live all the way in Wiltshire!" Draco protested.

"Take the knight bus," Hermione smirked while Harry sniggered.

"The knight bus!" Draco said scandalised, "I am not taking the bloody knight bus,"

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before getting piss drunk on a bloody Wednesday!" And with that the witch promptly turned and settled the boys' account. When she got back to the table however she was not at all pleased to find her best friend and her best friend's questionable friend passed out on the floor.

"Bloody idiots."

 **XXX**

Hermione was never one to fuss over her physical attributes but for this particular moment she scowled at her inadequacy to gain some sizable height.

"Hermione," Harry whimpered from beside her. He was crying, half-asleep.

She was currently in the process of dragging her best friend into her apartment. She just _had_ to get a muggle flat, didn't she? For the first time in her life she wished she could use her magic and levitate him up the stairs. Damn you, International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy!

"It's going to be okay Harry," Hermione whispered back. Now that the alcohol was fading, the pain was starting to settle in. Ginny had walked out of Harry and their kids' life, just another person who left the boy-who-lived behind.

Finally after what seemed like hours, Hermione was stumbling into her apartment. Harry's weight sent her collapsing on her sofa. She pried herself off of him and rolled off onto the floor. She lay there for quite some time relishing the relief her aching back got from carrying a full-grown man up the stairs. She could almost taste sleep when her eyes jolted open. Followed by the scrunching of her nose as if tasting something unpleasant.

Draco Malfoy. He was still currently downstairs sleeping at the steps to her apartment building where she had left him.

"Maybe I can just leave him there," she told herself.

Yeah, right.

With an all too miserable groan she pushed herself off the floor and whipped out her wand. First, to deal with Harry. She levitated the boy-who-lived's body into her spare guest room and tucked him in, remembering to transfigure his clothes into a more suitable sleeping attire.

"Hermione," Harry whimpered in his half-awake state, "Please don't leave me too,"

"I won't" she whispered back at him, "I won't. I'll always have your back"

"Promise?"

"I promise," The witch whispered back but he was already in miserable slumber. Hermione sighed and looked at her best friend one last time. She was almost dreading the morning after. How was she supposed to fix this mess? She shook her head, but first she had to attend to a more pressing issue.

The ferret.

The ferret, it turns out, weighed nothing like a ferret at all and Hermione told herself that there was no way in hell she was going to carry him up those stairs. Just like how she told her herself that there was no way in hell she was going to deliver him to his "charming" little manor at Wiltshire. She had vowed never to step foot in that horror house again.

So she did the only thing she could do. She looked once, twice, thrice up and down the street to see if there was anyone there and with one quick movement she shot a spell at Malfoy's body. It was a spell to lighten weight and she berated herself for not thinking of it sooner.

Still, she wished she could just levitate him but that was completely out of the question. She had the nosiest neighbor. An old lady who doesn't do anything but knit mittens for her cats and watch the hallway through the peephole of her door. Hermione learned the hard way when she had accidentally whipped out her wand to _accio_ something she had forgotten downstairs. Nothing an _obliviate_ couldn't fix.

Now, she looked down at the sleeping Slytherin as she tucked in her wand, all she had to figure out now was how to carry Malfoy up there…without touching him.

His body felt infuriatingly delicious pressed up against her side. She started to wonder how lonely she really was to even think those things. She snorted and continued to drag his body up the stairs. She had thrown one of his arms around her shoulders while her arms wrapped around his torso. She almost groaned at the contact. Almost. Merlin, this was not the time.

"Scorpius?" Draco mumbled, slightly stirring as his body kept jerking upwards whenever Hermione pulled him up the steps.

"He's not here," Hermione struggled to say as she was winded from all the effort she was exerting. Even with the weight lifting spell, Draco Malfoy was still a challenge to carry around. Probably because he was infuriatingly tall, "You left him...somewhere. I don't know where, you never told me,"

"I want Scorpius," Draco whined.

"Well, if you wanted to be with your son," Hermione huffed as she dragged him up the last step, "Then maybe you shouldn't have drunk that stupid amount of butterbeer, hm?"

As soon as she landed on her floor she kicked her door open and dropped the Malfoy heir unceremoniously on her couch finding herself once again sprawled out on her carpeted floor. She heard Malfoy groan in pain and then...quiet snoring.

"There," she told no one, her breath quick and short from her physical exertion, "You did your job, Hermione Granger"

She stood up and eyed the Slytherin who was lying in what looked like the most uncomfortable position with half his body not even on the sofa, his robes tangling at his feet. She thought about tucking him in but scowled instead and walked to her bedroom, "You've already let him stay here. That's more than enough"

And yet even after she had rationalised her decision to not help out the Slytherin any more than she already has, she couldn't stop herself from pacing up and down her bedroom. Sometimes she would stop in front of her door that gave the perfect view of a quarter of her sofa—the quarter where Draco's head happened to rest and stared at him before she would shake her head and start pacing again.

Eventually she decided to calm herself down and settle herself under her covers. She lay flat on her back and stared at the ceiling, her mind going off a mile a minute. Truth be told, she still didn't understand Harry's friendship with Draco. It completely blindsided her when the two started becoming friends especially since she found about it through Rita Skeeter's column. **Potter and Malfoy Truce,** her article had said. On one issue it even said they were in a secret love affair which led to her assumptions tonight. She was slightly sorry to find out that that wasn't the case. That would have been a slightly more exciting end to her night.

She sighed. What had made Harry change his mind? Why Draco? And more importantly how? If she was to be honest though, she hadn't been around Harry much to know about how his life had really been going. Before tonight, she had never seen the Harry-Draco friendship for herself. She was always too busy, too preoccupied, too...too.

She found that she couldn't finish her string of excuses because one gulp of _Veritaserum_ and she would be spewing how the real reason she doesn't come around much anymore was because of how much it hurt to see Harry's family. Of course she was happy for him but she was also deathly jealous of him. Even _Ron_ had gotten himself hitched for Merlin's sake—not that she was saying that he couldn't. But come on, _Ron_ _"teaspoon" Weasley_ getting married before her? Her hopeless, clueless best friend? She started to wonder what was wrong with her. And so, she avoided them as much as she could. Babysitting and hanging out with their kids? Yes, sign her up for it. Double-dating and catching up on their lives? Let's say she's rather crawl in a hole and die.

Well, at least she found one other thing she wasn't good at aside from flying.

Getting married.

This selfish reason of course made her feel a little bit guilty. If she had only paid a closer attention to her friends, to Ginny, to Harry maybe she could have stopped this from happening. Found out what was wrong. This also made her feel like a horrible friend. In what universe was Draco a better friend than her that he was the first person Harry turned to in his time of need. In fact, why the bloody hell didn't Harry call her first? SHE WAS HIS BEST FRIEND AND SHE HAD TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS FROM BLOODY PANSY PARKINSON—

 _Ok, inner peace, Hermione_ , the witch breathed in. _Were not here to get angry. Were just...thinking. Figuring things out._

Acknowledging her defeat she padded towards her living. She hovered above the sleeping Slytherin with her hands on her hips, eyeing him. She wanted to understand. She wanted to understand how, at this very moment, Draco Malfoy existed in this living room, currently with a better relationship with Harry than she had. Well, she decided, if this ferret can take care of Harry while she was gone then, just this once maybe she could return the favor. She sighed for one last time tonight, "You win"

She had originally planned to tuck in Malfoy more comfortably on her couch but looking at her handiwork now, she decided that this idea was significantly much better. She had levitated the Slytherin to the guest bedroom and laid him right next to Harry. The two now shifted into a position where they shared a loving embrace. Hermione carefully covered the two of them with a blanket. Merlin knows they might get cold.

With one final glance she retreated back into her room and settled herself under the covers. She couldn't help but let out a smile as she closed her eyes.

"That'll teach them for ruining my date."

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, I know I shouldn't be writing new fics when I have two more I have yet to finish but I had this idea running in my head and unless I get it out of the way, I won't be able to think much about the others.

So I hope you enjoyed this. (I really like draco-harry friendships.) I don't know what to do with this or how long I'm going to make this so I decided to just upload it and see what kind of reactions/feedback I get out of this if it's worth it enough to continue (since no matter how you look at it, it's really unfinished and can't be passed as a one-shot).

Bye and thanks for reading! Leave a review and tell me what you think!

And just for the heck of it:

 **Disclaimer:** I still don't own harry potter.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you for all your review/likes/follows! I really appreciate them!

Here's the second chapter. There isn't a lot of Draco-Scorpius interaction on this one but I plan to focus on their relationship on the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **7:00 AM**

Draco's bed felt wrong. For starters, the sheets felt like it was made out of cotton. Nothing wrong with cotton but it was nowhere near the level of his Italian woven silks. Now _those_ felt like heaven against his skin.

He groaned as his senses came further into focus. The throbbing of his head increased along with his awareness. That was the last time he was ever going out to drink with Potter. Speaking of Potter, he wondered where he'd ended up.

Draco experimentally tried to move his limbs and was pleased to find that his fingers and toes jumped into attention at his command. It was nice to know that he did not die of alcohol poisoning. Maybe his life was starting to look up.

He shifted in bed, hoping to stretch out his body from its slumbered state. That was when he hit a wall. No, it was a chest. And he was horrified to realize that it felt nothing like a female chest. He slowly pried his eyes open, dreading to see what was on the other side.

Nope, it was not a female chest at all.

 **xxx**

Harry woke up from an ear-splitting scream and his eyes jolted awake only to be welcomed to the site of one Draco Malfoy, inches away from his face.

Then he started screaming too.

Their voices rang loud in clear throughout the whole muggleborn's apartment. It had the perfect mixture of fear, panic and despair.

"Music to my ears," Hermione Granger would later be heard describing the sound that the two men produced, "Though Malfoy sounded a bit flat."

The two men stared at each other, completely out of breath, as if daring the other to say something horrible about their situation. Harry was the first to speak. No surprise there, Gryffindor and bravery after all.

"We didn't…?"

The Slytherin's eyes widened in horror, "No. No! **NO.** "

The boy-who-lived looked around uncomfortably. Even fully clothed, he felt naked. He wondered how they had ended up in this situation. He knew for a fact he was at Hermione's. He'd been to her place plenty enough to know that this was indeed where she lived. The question is: why and how did Draco end up in the same bed as him.

"Potter, don't. I know you're an auror and you think about things way too much. But don't. _**Nothing**_ happened," Draco said but it seemed more as if he was convincing himself if anything, "Nothing…no. Just **no."**

The auror nodded slowly, willing to believe Draco's reasoning. His face broke into a slow smile, "Yes, let's just be friends."

"No! Don't you dare, Potter," The healer hissed, "We are not going to joke about this. We're not going to look back on this one day and ' _laugh at the good times'_. We are not even going to acknowledge that this ever happened."

There was a knock on the door and the two men swallowed whatever words that were begging to leave their tongues and turned towards the sound.

It was Hermione Granger, dressed in her matching set pajamas, padding in with a cup of tea in her hand, "Good morning," she said a little too… _nicely._ And just like that, it clicked in Harry's mind. Of _course_ it was Hermione Granger.

"I didn't think you two would be up this early," Hermione smiled at the men, "Malfoy, I hope my couch wasn't too hard on your pureblood back,"

At this the Slytherin's face turned green. _The couch?_

"Yes, thank you," he muttered out quickly, avoiding eye contact. He hoped she didn't notice that he had been staring at the space above her head. "Er…I think I should go. I have to check on Scorpius and all."

"Of course," she said, quirking an amused eyebrow at him.

"Floo?"

"The living room," the witch said as she turned around as if to lead him. She caught Harry's eye in the process who rolled his eyes at her but nevertheless followed suit. Hermione opened her floo network to allow Malfoy passage, offering him some floo powder.

Malfoy stepped into the chimney with his hand up ready to drop the powder. He looked at the two and opened his mouth as if to say something but thought otherwise. Instead he shut his lips once more, gazed at the two Gryffindors one last time and disappeared into the flames without uttering a single word of farewell.

"Well, that was rude," Hermione feigned insult.

"Hermione Granger," Harry stood beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder, "Why can't you ever use your powers for good?"

The Gryffindor witch huffed, "It's no fun with you. You know me too well."

Harry grinned at her.

"Harry where are your children?"

"At Malfoy's"

"You're joking,"

 **9:00 AM**

"Unca Dwaco, Up!" .

If Draco wasn't a wizard that demand would have hurt what with the hangover he was fighting. Instead the high-pitched voice just sent a light hum against his head.

Potions.

Magic.

It's good to be a wizard.

The Slytherin eyed the little redhead who was walking beside him, her hand safely clutched in his. He almost answered back, _I'm technically not your uncle,_ until he remembered that she was two and instead hoisted her up in his arms.

However, the two year old had a different idea of _up_ and squirmed forcefully against his chest, "No! UP!" she screamed with glee then a _please_ when Draco raised an eyebrow to berate her.

Satisfied with her manners, Draco hoisted her up so that she was sitting on his shoulders, one leg dangling on either side of his neck. He felt her tiny fingers cling onto his hair—his **perfect, beautiful** hair that took hours to fix that morning because he was too hungover to get the spell just right the first time around.

Draco started walking again.

"How are you up there princess Lily?" he decided to humor the girl.

The two-year-old giggled before her voice turned sour. He could almost hear her pout, "I want too!"

By "too" of course, the littlest Potter was referring to the muggle self-defense classes that her older brothers were taking—muggle self-defense classes that Draco now has the misfortune of chaperoning. Scorpius was unfortunately undergoing a I-want-to-do-everything-Albus-Potter-is-doing phase and used his devilish cuteness to coerce his father to let him. Draco didn't stand a chance.

In his defense, his son was ridiculously adorable.

And cunning.

And manipulative.

And is taking _**muggle**_ self defense classes with the Potters.

Draco cursed the heavens. Has he not suffered enough?

And so in admittance to his defeat, Draco now braved the muggle streets twice a week in an effort to deliver his child to this so called "master." Of course, Harry jumped at the opportunity to use Draco as a free babysitting service knowing full well that he wouldn't let Scorpius venture out in the muggle world without him by his side.

"Don't think of it as babysitting," Harry reasoned with the Slytherin, "Think of it as, my kids are just tagging along with your kid,"

When Draco didn't budge the chosen one added, "I _could_ make Molly bring them. You two can just meet up and share the company while you wait—"

"How dare you play the Weasley card on me,"

"I'll have them at your manor by nine on Tuesdays and Thursdays okay thanks bye, Malfoy!"

Fucking Saint Potter.

"Lily, you know you're still too little to do any of that stuff," The Slytherin could feel the tiny Potter's misery as her fingers further scrunched up his hair.

"Not little! Lily two!" the little girl insisted. Draco smirked. Of course she was stubborn. Just like her pain in the ass father.

It was the same story every week. Draco would drop off the boys and take Lily on a stroll in a park nearby to get her mind off being excluded but on their way back her thoughts would revert back to her brothers.

"Would you like to fly today, Princess Lily?" The Slytherin said trying to trick the little girl out of her misery. It worked like a charm.

"Fly! Fly!" Lily screamed.

Flying meant Draco running at full speed while Lily shrieked at the top of her lungs. It was the favorite past time of the two year old with her "uncle" Draco. By the time they got back to the building Draco was out of breath and he quickly settled on the waiting benches outside the studio. Lily crawled down to his lap.

"Oops," she giggled, "Uncle Dwaco, your hair funny,"

"And whose fault is that?" Draco raised an eyebrow at her and tickled her. She tried to squirm free but failed miserably as she couldn't stop laughing. Draco stopped and held her down, "Hold on Lily, your hair's a mess."

The two year old sat obediently—a surprising trait from a Potter, as the blonde fixed her hair up in two plaits like she always liked it.

When Lily Potter was born Ginny Potter had begun to retreat from her family. Ginny was always too busy to stay at home and look after the kids. She always had some Quidditch thing going on. Practice, a match, a press conference—there was always something. Of course, Harry, who also had a demanding job didn't notice his wife's weird behavior before it was too late.

By this time Albus had already started becoming friends with Scorpius and would often spend time at the manor. After some time, struggling with someone to look after his kids, Harry just thought it would be easier to have all his kids in one location. Some days they were all at Hermione's, sometimes at Molly's and sometimes, on Tuesdays and Thursdays—and some Saturdays, they were at the Malfoy's.

Lily became Draco's favorite Potter in no time. Partly because she didn't look like her father but also, because she was the only Potter he looked after from infancy.

"All done!" Draco announced to the little girl.

The two-year-old beamed up at him and Draco smiled back. His eyes flicked to above her head and that's when he noticed a whole bench of women smiling at him. He smirked back at them and they burst out in giggles and whispered to each other.

Ah, muggle single mothers—

But before he could finish that train of thought the door to the rooms burst open and children spilled out in the waiting room. It wasn't long before his own spawn found him.

"Dad!" the four-year-old Malfoy launched himself up at his father.

"Hey Scorpius," Draco fondly returned the hug, "had a good class?,"

The four year old nodded, "James is getting a yellow belt soon. Do you think I'll be able to get one too?" Draco watched his son nervously play with the white belt wrapped around his waist then he glanced the eldest Potter kid strutting about in front of his siblings.

"Of course you will," Draco smiled at his son. _Maybe even better_ , he added to himself.

"Mr. Malfoy can we get ice cream?" Draco looked up to see the Potter children all standing in front of him.

"Well—"

"ICE CREAM," Lily screamed excitedly.

"Fine."

 **2:00 PM**

Was she not allowed to have one good date? Hermione inwardly cursed as she watched Draco Malfoy and his group of merry children stroll in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She shifted nervously in her seat. Her companion was not completely oblivious to her sudden discomfort.

"Hermione is something wrong?" he asked her.

"No, no, everything's fine," the witch explained quickly, "It's just…well it's such a lovely day outside would you like to take a walk with me?"

He laughed. He probably thought she was just being cute, "Sure thing. Am I allowed to finish my ice cream first?"

Hermione returned his laugh with a nervous one, "Right. Ice cream. That's why we came in here."

She shot worried glances at Malfoy's group who was now hunched over the counter probably deciding what flavor to get. It's not that she was ashamed of her date—he was wonderful. It's just that she didn't want to reveal her life right now. Not like this, and certainly not to Draco Malfoy.

She glanced at Malfoy again except this time a pair of eyes were looking right back at her. She internally panicked and shifted in her seat hoping that was enough to hide her from view.

"Okay," her date barked out in laughter, "What in Merlin's balls are you doing?"

"These chairs are horrible," the witch made up an excuse quickly. She allowed herself a quick look at the group again and to her horror the pair of eyes looking at her were gone. In fact, where were they? She scanned the crowed frantically.

"Uhm…Hermione?" her date said uneasily.

Hermione looked at him inquisitively only to find him pointing at something beside her. She almost dreaded to look.

There she was. Harry's two-year-old, standing no taller than the table beaming up at her, "Aunt Mione," she giggled.

"Well, hello Lily," Hermione was twitching inside.

"Lily! I told you not to—Granger?" His silver eyes met her brown ones in shock. Draco quickly averted his gaze when he remembered the circumstances of his morning at her apartment.

"Malfoy," Hermione smirked at his reaction.

"Hey Draco…?" Her companion was slightly confused.

"Nott?"

There was a large pregnant pause as the three studied each other with curiosity. Hermione could almost hear Draco's mind working up conclusions a mile a minute. She almost dreaded what would come out of his mouth. One could never really know with this Slytherin.

"I thought you only had one kid?"

"I do."

"And she's…?" Nott indicated to the little redheaded girl now sitting on Hermione's lap.

"Potter's."

"And those two?" pointing at the two other boys behind Draco.

"Also Potter's."

"Just like the bed he slept in last night." Hermione sniggered into Lily's hair.

Draco's head snapped towards the direction of the witch. The coldest glare escaped from his silver eyes.

"I don't even want to know why you spent the night in Harry Potter's bed," Theodore Nott smirked at his former housemate.

"Dad, did you and Mr. Harry have a sleepover?" Scorpius tugged at his shirtsleeve excitedly, proving yet again how quickly his son's mind grasps ideas.

At this point Hermione burst out laughing.

She was wrong.

This turned out to be a good date after all.

 **5:00 PM**

"How's Potter holding up?"

Draco hoisted Scorpius further up his back. The two were currently walking back to Hermione's apartment. The witch had volunteered to take the Potter children seeing as their father was still currently at her place. She had planned two floo trips to take the Potter kids back and forth until,

"I can walk them home with you," the Slytherin said as if he'd been doing so his whole life that his action could be deemed normal.

"No, really Malfoy, I've got it from here—"

"Lily has already fallen asleep," Draco indicated at the child snuggled in Hermione's arms, "It would be dangerous to floo her now,"

"What, are you suddenly an expert on childcare?"

"No. Just in common sense." The Slytherin said nonchalantly and started walking towards the exit to muggle London.

"Is that how you became Harry's favorite ferret?" Hermione grumbled, still bitter about being ranked second to Malfoy on Harry's friendship list.

"What?" Draco looked back at her.

"Nothing," the witch said under her breath, "Let's just go."

They now rounded the corner to her street.

"I'll let you know when he wakes up," Hermione raised an eyebrow at her blonde companion in challenge.

There was two counts of silence.

"You drugged him, didn't you?"

Hermione shrugged, "A little dreamless sleep potion never hurt anybody."

Draco nodded in agreement. In fact, he mentally slapped himself for not thinking of it last night. He could have just drugged Potter instead of getting piss drunk with him.

"So...Taekwondo, huh?" Hermione nodded her head towards the sleeping Scorpius who was still in his uniform.

"Don't look at me, blame Potter's kid," Draco grumbled, "That kid is a bad influence on Scorpius."

"You could have said no." the Gryffindor pointed out.

"You'll find that it's hard for me to say no to my son," his voice was laced with adoration as he looked back to his son's sleeping face. Hermione swallowed a smile at the affectionate scene.

The two didn't say anything else until they stopped in front of Hermione's apartment building. The two Potter boys went ahead raced upstairs to her door, key in hand as the two adults lingered below to say their awkward goodbyes.

"Well, goodbye Malfoy."

"Granger."

The two nodded at each other and turned the opposite way. Draco walking towards the nearest apparition point and Hermione up the steps. They didn't get very far before Hermione turned around and asked a last minute question.

"So who was watching the kids when you and Harry went drinking last night? Harry told me he was at your place but he didn't tell me with who."

"Why do you need to know?" Draco turned around as well.

"Just cause." _Please not a house elf, please not a house elf._

"My father."

"Your father, Lucius Malfoy…father?" Hermione was completely flabbergasted.

"What's wrong with my father?"

"Nothing! Well...come on, Malfoy. You know how your father is!" Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. And just like that their little bubble of civility burst like a sad balloon animal at a children's party.

"Yes, after he serves the children snacks he brainwashes them on pureblood ideologies. You know how it's so important to pass on the proper Wizarding ideals of bloody purity and customs. Eventually he'll let them take a nap, which, is afterwards followed by lessons on important spells. The basic spells every young wizard should know: Imperio, Avada kedavra, crucio—all for the glory of our lord and saviour, Voldemort."

"That isn't what I meant," Hermione scowled at the wizard.

"But that's what you wanted to think, wasn't it?" he challenged her.

She was expecting the worst in Lucius Malfoy and he called her out on it. People change, and yet no matter how much she tells herself this, she still can't move on from her past with the Malfoys, "No."

"You'll find that there's a difference from what you know and what you _think_ you know."

At this accusation, she didn't say anything.

"Right. Goodbye, Granger," and with that Draco turned around and left.

Now she wished he just said, a house elf.

Hermione watched him disappear as he turned a corner with a frown on her face and the feeling of guilt gnawing at her insides. He's been nothing been but civil with her all day and what does she do? Attack his father—and indirectly him. Way to go Hermione, she told herself, you've truly outdone yourself.

In front of her, Lily started to stir in her arms. She rubbed her tiny fist against her eye, "Is Unca Dwaco gone?" she asked sleepily.

"Yes," Hermione cooed at her as she walked upstairs.

"He didn't say goodbye!" Lily pouted.

"He didn't want to wake you up," She assured the two year old, "How was your day yesterday in, er—Uncle Draco's house?" Just saying that name and title sent chills up her spine.

At this Lily's eyes lit up, "Really fun! I like Grampa Lucy."

 _Grandpa Lucy…? What in Merlin's balls?_ The witch nearly vomited in her mouth as she opened the door to her apartment to find the two boys sitting in front of the telly.

"And why do you like Granpa Lucy?"

"He lets me braid his hair, like Unca Dwaco does mine," the two year old fondly shows Hermione her perfectly plaited pigtails, "See."

She set the little girl down and watched her join her brothers on the couch. She leaned against the archway to her kitchen, her mind deep in thought.

 _What you know and_ w _hat you think you know_. That part really haunted her. She had always prided herself on being the open-minded one in the group. Harry and Ron were always the ones to act on single minded decisions. She always thought things through on both sides of the situation so why was Malfoy suddenly accusing her of being otherwise? It made her feel self-conscious. It made her feel a tiny bit miserable inside. It made her feel—wait did Lily just say that **Draco Malfoy braided her hair**?


End file.
